


I (Don't) Wanna Live Forever

by Jackhelvetica



Category: South Park
Genre: Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Family, Gen, Not Really Character Death, POV Kenny, Siblings, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackhelvetica/pseuds/Jackhelvetica
Summary: Kenny's close encounters with death has allowed him to be more attuned to the supernatural. One day, he encounters a seemingly malicious spirit that takes away a crucial aspect of his life---and changes his life forever. Also, he needs more screentime.





	1. 2nd September, 2018

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys :) This is my first official South Park fanfic. I've been following this series for about a year now. Hope everyone has a great time! Please leave any constructive criticisms :)
> 
> P.S. Might be a bit out of character...

**2nd September, 2018**

 

As soon as Karen’s sobbing reached my ears, I barged through the broken door, rushed through the mess of the living room hoping I wouldn’t accidentally cut my feet by stepping on sharp pieces of beer cans. The moonlight was barely visible. As soon as I stepped in, I was enveloped in total darkness, which did not soothe my tense muscles.

“Karen! What happened?”

Her sobbing became louder. “I’m scared, Kenny... where are you?”

I took out a half-filled lighter that I’d picked up (luckily) along the streets of deserted SoDoSoPa. I felt my fingers around the ignition button and pressed it.

A small, flicker of flame huffed to life.

“Karen, it’s okay, I’m here...” I walked around with my only source of vision, trying to locate her. I checked the closet first, since that was her usual hiding spot. As my hand gingerly grabbed the knob and pulled it open with the usual creaks, I could only see Karen, curled up in a tiny ball among the messy stacks of clothes.

Her sobbing soon faded away. “Kenny!” She lunged towards me and clung onto me like a koala clinging to a tree, which pushed me back and I fell on a mattress, hurling the extinguished lighter away. With my hands, I sat myself up and quickly wrapped my arms around my younger sister protectively, saying “It’s okay”, over, and over again, in a soft whisper, till I felt her heartbeat slow down to the normal rate.

It took a while for Karen to process what had happened, although I could guess: electricity got cut off, bills as usual overdue... In the meantime, we used my lighter to find our way around and return to our respective mattresses on the floor. Kevin, as usual, neglected Karen, probably out there doing drugs and whatnot. Well, I can’t judge him. I’ve done cheesing before, and Karen wasn’t very proud of me either.

I don’t know where Mom and Dad are. Probably doing drugs too or consuming beer or both.

As Karen and I laid down on our less-than-comfortable mattresses, we began talking. We call it our ‘night-talk’. Everything that we say is kept secret here. Believe me, privacy feels like a foreign concept (and almost a privilege to have when I have sleepovers) in my poor household when we have people walking into our room without warning, drunk, in the early morning. And we are too poor to afford locks.

We tell each other the good, bad and ugly tales of our elementary school. We confess to each other our crushes, we try to encourage each other whenever one of us is feeling down. I’ll always vent about Cartman’s evil antics, except without profanities. Trying not to swear is actually really difficult.

“Kenny, I think our house is haunted,” Karen’s voice was shaking, when she suddenly changed the topic.

“Eh, don’t worry, I’ll protect you from evil ghosts. I’m not afraid of them,” I tried to sound smug, as memories of all my previous deaths came flashing back. Then I added a bit of a chuckle, for a good measure.

“Really? You promise?”

“I promise, Karen.”

A while later, she fell asleep. I stared at the dark ceiling above and tried to convince myself that ghosts weren’t real. (Except for that one time in Hawaii.) But the more I convinced myself, the more I could see black shadows dancing in the night. I swore it was my eyes playing tricks on me.

Then again, this was South Park.

Anything could happen.

Whatever happens, I must protect Karen.


	2. 3rd September, 2018

**3rd September, 2018**

 

The next day during recess, I almost bumped into Cartman’s back on the way to the cafeteria and dropped my paper bag containing my precious, single plain slice of bread for breakfast. As I bent down and reached for it, Cartman snatched it away first, pried open the bag and stole a sniff of my wonderful poverty.

“Ah, the smell of poor people,” he threw it against my chest, which I caught with my Mysterion reflexes. 

“Well, at least I don’t have to waste time queuing up for food.”

“At least I don’t have to eat fucking bread every day,” he mocked; his beady, slanted little brown eyes managed to look down on me even though I was five centimetres taller than him. Gripping the paper bag in my hands, I strode towards the cafeteria so that I wouldn’t have to stoop down to his level and argue with him. 

I headed to our usual table and sat down, waiting for the others to join. That day, I sat between Butters and Stan, while Cartman and Kyle sat opposite us.

Butters silently pushed his small carton of milk ever so slightly towards me, which is something he has been doing for quite a while now. Although I felt a little bad initially, I’ve gotten used to accepting his goodwill. Butters was just nice like that. Too nice, if you ask me.

As soon as I had finished sipping from the straw in the carton, Cartman grabbed the carton and inhaled the milk down his oesophagus, faster than you could say “Fuck you”. As he wiped his white-stained mouth with his sleeve, Butters cried out, “Eric! I didn’t share that with you!”

“Oh, you mean I’m not your best friend, but Kenny is?” His smile curved into a sly, wicked grin and I knew he had succeeded into manipulating Butters. I sighed, “Butters, don’t bother with him---”

Unfortunately, Butters’ innocence was louder than my advice. “N-No, Eric, but Kenny needs it more than you...”

“He’s right,” Kyle, as usual, stood up against Cartman’s bullshit. “You don’t need any more milk when you’re still sucking from your mom’s tits.”

“EY!! Shut up, you freaking Jew!!” 

As they proceeded with their usual banter, the sweet taste of starch and glucose was enough to fill my appetite. Butters apologised (why does he constantly apologise?), to which I always said “It’s okay”. Meanwhile, Stan continued to browse Instagram and was secretly stalking the other girls in our class. 

“Playing an extreme sports huh, Stan?” I whispered into Stan’s ear without warning, mimicking Wendy’s voice. (Actually, it was more of a Princess Kenny voice, but close enough.) As soon as I did that, he jerked upwards a little and I hid my laughter behind my mouth, looking like a constipated seal.

“Not cool, Kenny, not cool,” Stan grumbled, as he quickly re-opened the Instagram app.

In the midst of my hysterical silent laughter, I felt an usually hot, soft breeze--or a hand?---brushing against my back. I stiffened my back immediately as a chill ran down my spine. For a split second, I couldn’t feel my butt on the bench.

“Kenny? What happened?” asked Butters.

“N-Nothing,” I tried to brush that feeling off. Taking deep breaths, I squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them again. I happened to see a big, black scary demon-like spirit. 

What? 

I blinked again. It was gone.

Oh, just my imagination---

I blinked a third time and it was back, flipping tables everywhere and terrorising other fourth-graders. 

“Wait! STOP!” I stood up and yelled at it, hoping to catch its attention. Screams of children flooded the cafeteria and only then did Kyle and Cartman stop squabbling. Stan was yelling at them the entire time while Butters clung onto me and started sobbing. As soon as the spirit saw me, it halted its acts of terror and began to inch towards me. If I offered myself as sacrifice, then it wouldn’t target other people, right? 

Come at me, bro. Who cares if you’ve got sharp fangs and balls of fire? I’m a fucking immortal fourth-grader! 

“Kenny, who the fuck are you talking to?!” Cartman yelled at me, more confused than scared.

“YOU CAN SEE ME?” the spirit’s voice trembled, and I could feel the ground beneath me shaking. Red-orange flames licked the surface of this being, and as it got closer, the flames surrounded me, as if I was trapped in a pocket of another dimension. The passage of time seemed to stop, as the flickering of flames overpowered the screams of children. 

I took this chance to see its face up close, except I couldn’t really describe it. One instant, it looked sad. The other instant, it switched to anger. Basically, if you took faces of negative emotions and cooked them in one huge boiling pot of soup, you should see its face. Oh yeah, and add a fuckton of Tabasco sauce too.

“What are you? Where did you come from?” I reached my fingers out to touch the fiery body. But it went straight through it.

“I AM A FIRE DEMON. I WAS ON MY WAY TO IMAGINATIONLAND... AND I GOT LOST...” It switched to its crying face.

Wow, straight to the point. That saves us chapters of exposition, then. (Except I have no fucking idea where and what is ‘Imaginationland’. I wasn’t really in those episodes.)

“Sir, I’ll need to ask my friends about it, if you can let me go back to the real world---”

“NO!! YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON WHO CAN SEE ME! WHAT IF I LET YOU GO AND YOU RUN AWAY??”

I guess it was only right that I was the only person that could see it. My life has been nothing short of supernatural encounters, as much as I hate to admit it.

“Uh, Sir, please---”

“HMM, WAIT!” It tried to smile, but unfortunately it only made itself look way creepier. “THERE’S ANOTHER WAY! BUT I NEED YOUR HELP.”

Before I could reject it, it said, “I COULD HITCH A RIDE USING  _ GRABCARRIAGE _ , AND USE SOMETHING HUMAN AS PAYMENT.”

“Sure, just take my heart or brain out,” I was getting more annoyed by the second.

“NO, NOT PHYSICAL,” it changed to a baffled-looking face and I swore it even manifested some fiery eyebrows to emphasise its expression,” SOMETHING INTANGIBLE, LIKE... INSECURITIES AND STUFF, YOU KNOW?”

And I thought our economy was bad. Who uses stuff like “insecurities” as currency?

Unfortunately though, I was never given the chance to decide. The spirit enveloped me completely---I had to shut my eyes from being blinded by fire--and my physical body seemed to dissolve and detach from my conscious mind. I was floating, somewhere, someplace... 


	3. 3̴̢͡r̸̴̡͢͞d̷̨̧͠ ̶͠S̸̡̨ę̨͝p͟t͜͠e̷̴̷̴̕m̢͜͞͞b҉̛͠e͢͏͠r͢͠ ̨̨2̸̵̨0҉̷̶̨͠1̵͜8̧

**3̴̢͡r̸̴̡͢͞d̷̨̧͠ ̶͠S̸̡̨ę̨͝p͟t͜͠e̷̴̷̴̕m̢͜͞͞b҉̛͠e͢͏͠r͢͠ ̨̨2̸̵̨0҉̷̶̨͠1̵͜8̧**

 

Like a feather, I floated, through some sort of space...

It was neither hot nor cold, humid nor windy, bright nor dark.

I guess I’m back here again. 

When I felt that it was safe to open my eyes, the world around me slowly came into my vision. As I’d predicted, it was the pocket of space, or boundary, between life and death. I looked down, and my entire body was almost transparent. Everytime I died, I would immediately be transported here, waiting for my time to respawn again. Meanwhile, I was given the privilege of watching how I died in all my previous lives, in the millions of TV screens that surrounded me. Man, could life be any more of an asshole? (Not to mention, I’d never be able to afford THAT many TVs.)

Still, though, getting swallowed by that fiery bastard and having my insecurities taken away? That didn’t seem like a normal death, even though it would be nice to erase my insecurities. (To be fair, being immortal isn’t normal.) There HAD to be a catch. Something just... didn’t sit right with me.

As if right on cue, the TV screens began to crack; some even fell down and nearly hit me (could I die a second time in this world?). 

This time, my heart really began to race.

Nothing like this had ever happened before! I flailed my limbs and floated around to avoid the raining TVs.

Wait, am I actually afraid of death?

A moment of hesitation caused me to be slow in dodging TV-bullets. As it striked me, my body accelerated downwards towards nothingness---

“I’ve got you!!”

My arm, all of a sudden, was pulled out of the TV-bullet’s trajectory in a split-second. Going from a super fast speed to suddenly stopping, it made me want to hurl my stomach’s contents out. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my organs then.

As I regained my bearings, the hand that gripped my arm held on even tighter. 

“Hurry, we need to get back to reality!” A high-pitched, feminine and familiar voice caught me by surprise. 

“Karen, why are you here---”

She dragged my arm and, with her big white fluffy angel wings, she flew faster than the speed of sound in an unknown trajectory, whisking me away into another world.


	4. 5th September 2018

**5th September 2018**

 

I opened my eyes, except that didn’t do much---I was in someplace dark, stuffy and confined. Why would I be sleeping in here? And what the fuck just happened? I need to get out!

I tried to sit up, and I realised I was in some kind of rectangular small box. Fear surged through me for a few seconds, thinking I was buried alive, but then I realised: 1) I’m immortal; 2) the lid could be pushed open.

And so, with enough force, I pushed the lid open. As light streamed in, I sat up with eyes closed, breathing in the all-too-familiar scent of supposed ‘holy water’. My ears picked up soft sounds of sobbing and Father Maxi’s gentle voice.

I opened my eyes and allowed them to adjust to the lighting, and saw rows of people looking shocked, their mouths shaped in a perfect ‘O’.

“KENNY’S ALIVE!!” I heard Karen scream with joy, then spotted her running up to the lifted platform where I was, and hugged me.

“But I’d already... that’s not possible...” I heard someone say.

“My God, is Jesus living inside him?” Father Maxi muttered under his breath. “I’m so sorry, child, we should have known!”

“Nah, Jesus has his own house somewhere down the street. And it’s okay.”

With my usual orange parka, I jumped out of this container---which I later realised was a wooden coffin---and waved, “Hi guys, thanks for coming to my funeral, but I’m not dead, so... yeah,” I shrugged my shoulders.

“What a waste of my time,” the adults muttered, and scattered away. My parents weren’t even there---well, they didn’t need to, anyway.

I spotted Kyle, Stan, Cartman and Butters running up towards me too, and they (maybe except for that fat asshole) seemed relieved that I wasn’t burning in hell.

“But... how?!” inquired Kyle, who was still astonished, “Your body was burnt into a mangled mess in the fire!”

“Fire?” I pulled Karen closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. That was definitely _not_ what had happened.

“A really huge one, and it originated from the cafeteria. We quickly ran for the emergency exits, but...” Stan smiled sheepishly, “we didn’t, well...”

“Yeah, we totally forgot about you,” Cartman finished the sentence for him and shrugged. “I mean, it felt like you never existed.”

Butters started tearing up. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realise until it was too late!”

“No, it’s okay, really,” I reassured him, and bent down to talk to Karen. “You’re fine, right?”

She nodded her head and smiled gleefully, giving me another hug. Although I didn’t understand why she appeared in that world, I felt like I was indebted to her for something. Everything just seemed like the anime adaptation of Kagerou Project---full of vague clues and messy storylines. (Sorry KagePro fans.)

“Wanna play basketball?” Kyle suggested, and soon we were on our way to the courts (Karen went home first).

Ah, waking up in a coffin and playing basketball after. Just a normal page of my life.

Yet, one thing still bothered me: how did they remember that I had died?


	5. 6th September 2018 - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I like to think that Kenny has emotional breakdowns once in a while, to deal with his curse/superpower.

**6th September 2018 - Part 1**

 

My cracked Samsung phone read **12:03 AM.** We’d just finished our night-talk; Karen was sound asleep.

I struggled to get out of my mattress, and with the moonlight to guide me, I lugged my feet all the way to what remained of our kitchen---empty, useless furniture and containers. At least the fridge was still running. And my mom had boiled some water, so thankfully I wasn’t going to die of thirst.

Scrambling for one of the few standing chairs, I slumped onto it, feeling breathless, gasping and breathing for air. My leg muscles refused to obey my commands to stop being painful.

Get a grip, I told myself. I’m supposed to be immortal.

Immortal? What a pathetic joke. That fiery bastard...he knew I was tired of dying. Tired of seeing my friends unconcerned about my deaths. Tired of seeing myself forgotten with time. Maybe even fearful that, the more I died, the less existence I would have. I’d experience so many painful deaths, that I wasn’t afraid of pain itself---rather, the lack of pain, the numbness of it all.

I can’t die anymore. I’m a mortal, finally, like the rest of my friends. I’m supposed to be happy, right?

My body seemed to disagree with me, though. The entire day, I was physically weak; it felt like a miracle to have survived this far. It was like I had lost all of my buffs, and now I’m vulnerable to any kind of attacks.

“No, I don’t want to die,” I muttered, tears suddenly welling up in my eyes. Quickly, I suppressed the urge to cry; I didn’t want Karen to see me in such a vulnerable state. It felt like a stone was stuck in my throat, ready to destroy it and steal my voice away. “I don’t want anyone to forget about me!”

My hands trembled as I whipped my phone out of my pocket, scrolling through my list of contacts while I forced my eyes to burn in the bright light. I needed to talk to someone. But who? Butters? He’d seem like the right person, but honestly he would never believe me, and his parents would ground him if he was still awake at this hour. Cartman? No fucking way. It was either Kyle or Stan, now. Kyle might not be awake (he had strict parents too, but not nutcases like Butters’), while Stan’s more likely to be awake.

I pressed the call button.

_Dialing..._

With every ring, I felt my heart sink a little. I was about to end the call when Stan suddenly picked up.

“Hey Kenny, uh, what’s up? I was just skyping Wendy, would be great if you could, uh, make it fast.”

“Hey Stan. I need help,” I croaked, and quickly cleared my throat.

“Woah, dude, you okay? You sound really sick. Are your legs okay now?”

“Yeah, my legs are fine, just didn’t really watch my steps back then,” I lied, thinking about the disastrous basketball game we had. I kept screwing up so much that we decided to end the game early, much to Cartman’s dismay. He’d enjoyed seeing me fail at every dribble and shooting attempt.

I thought of what I wanted to tell him. What did I want to say? Would he think I’m a loser?

“Kenny? Are you still there?”

“Uh, yeah, I am. I just...” My voice went dangerously soft. “Why did you guys leave me behind? In the fire?”

I heard a sigh---more of an annoyed sigh, really. And a tiny spark of anger ignited flames inside me.

“It was by accident. I’m sorry, okay? It’s just...everything happened too fast. It was a blur. You just completely slipped our minds.”

“Completely slipped? Wasn’t I part of the quartet? The four that always hung out at the bus stop?!” I was almost yelling now; unable to contain my tears, they fall freely down.

“Kenny, look, listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“At some point in time, I don’t know why, but you started distancing yourself from us. Like, you _didn’t_ want to hang out with us.”

“There was a fucking reason---”

“ _What_ was the reason?”

“You guys wouldn’t have believed me!”

There was silence; I continued sniffing.

“Well, but you didn’t even give us the chance to believe you!”

“Alright, Stan, I’ll tell you the fucking reason. All this time, I was fucking dying! And no one noticed! There was no one I could talk to, because what kid goes up to someone and goes, ‘I just died yesterday and I need help’?!”

“Ken---”

“I just... kept everything inside, you know? Even when I tried telling you guys as Mysterion, somehow, memories of me dying was erased. I guess I just... stopped spending time with you guys because I didn’t want to feel like I wasn’t the same. As you guys.”

I continued, telling him about how this supposed superpower was taken away, and the effects of it. “I feel like dying, my dude. Literally...”

“You should see a doctor. Maybe you just happened to fall sick,” Stan tried to reassure me.

“Stan, I’m scared. I don’t know when I’ll die. I don’t know if I can survive!”

“... Welcome to life,” said Stan, chuckling in a cynical manner.

All of a sudden, I heard the main door in my house creak open, and someone, with very drunk and heavy steps, stepped inside. Probably my dad. His footsteps became louder and louder.

“I gotta go. Thanks.” I hung up the call.

  
“KENNETH MCCORMICK, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!!”


	6. 6th September 2018 - Part 2

**6th September 2018 - Part 2**

 

When a parent calls you by your entire fucking name, you know you’re fucked. Like, really fucked. In a bad way. After that stressful conversation with Stan, I didn’t even have time to stuff my phone into my pocket when my dad grabbed me by the collar and hollered at me, “YOU RUINED THE PLAN!”

My legs trembled to no end---it was especially to keep my balance when I was physically weak. His breath, heavy with alcohol, made me gag. 

“What plan?!” I wasn’t about to let my frustration die down; sometimes it just felt fucking amazing to let it all out. “A plan to make me fucking suffer for the rest of my life?!”

“NO,” he screamed, “A PLAN TO SAVE YOUR SORRY ASS, YOU DIPSHIT!”

I don’t miss my dad screaming at me. AT ALL. Even if he hadn’t done it in about a few months. Yet what I had heard was the complete opposite of what I’d expected. He finally let me go. I quickly adjusted the hem of my shirt and glared at him, with disdain, at his drunken state.

He trudged along the living room and slunk down onto our sofa, which was flat as a pancake. I continued sitting on my chair, watching him get his shit together.

“Kenny,” he called out; I hated how his voice was slurred. I didn’t respond.

“Well, about ten years ago, your mother and I were approached by some people in a dark alley.”

“That’s off to a great start. Go on.”

Grumbling, he continued, “We were both really broke. We got retrenched, evicted out of our houses and we were just feeling like shit, y’know. Then these people we met---they promised us a life full of blessings. And freedom. Freedom from troubles in life. Oh, and free cake too.

“We were quite desperate, so we decided, y’know, fuck it, and just join one of their meetings. It seemed like a humble, religious meeting. Like a cell group, but with more people.”

“I thought adults weren’t supposed to take candy from strangers and go to their van,” I rolled my eyes.

He ignored my remark. “We got tricked, though.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“Your mother got tricked into doing some ritual---she thought it was just an altar call to convert---but it was something...different. And bad. By the time we realised what was truly going on, it was too late. The next child she would bear---which is you, Kenny---would bear the curse of Cthulhu.”

He looked at me, expecting some form of reaction. Unfortunately for him, I’ve already been spoiled of this fact.

“So you knew, all along,” he said dejectedly, looking down at his can of beer.

“Only until this point. Why the fuck are you guys going back to the cult? Even now?”

“We’re indebted to them. The cult promised us a place to live in, so long we decided to convert. And... they’re the reason you could keep living, Kenny.”

“What?!”

“You see... we could’ve gone through the various rituals to get rid of this curse. But the thing is, we  _ can’t. _ ”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything that could go wrong... went wrong. You were born prematurely, the hell. And doctors said that you would never lead a healthy life---some even said you might die early. So we made use of this curse to keep you alive---as long as possible.”

I couldn’t process everything at once; my head felt like it was spinning. The curse had suddenly become my saving grace---and I’d gotten rid of it!

He rose up suddenly and yelled, again, in a mix of anger and sadness, “AND THAT’S WHY, YOU DON’T ERASE THE FUCKING CURSE!! WHY DID YOU DO IT?!”

I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die---

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH---

Dashing back into my room, I jumped back into my mattress and screamed into my pillow. 

How long do I have left?

  
Someone please save me...   



	7. 21st October 2018

**21st October 2018**

  
“McCormick’s preparing for this decisive shot... She throws the ball, and hits a service ace! Winner - the South Park Cows!”

I watched, as my younger sister won the game against the local powerhouse. She became the vice-captain of the school volleyball team (if Wendy wasn’t the captain, she’d already be the captain), something she’d never dreamed of back when she was physically weak. Surprisingly, as soon as my curse was lifted, Karen began getting stronger and stronger. It was as if I had transferred all of my life force to her.

I guess... I’m just fulfilling my big brother responsibilities, right?

Now, I’m just a bag of meat and bones, waiting for my inevitable demise. I ran out of breath easily; my bones were as brittle as glass; I was so terrible in my agility that no boys wanted to play ball games with me ever again. I could never be Mysterion, the guardian angel that Karen wished to see again. 

Doctors couldn’t explain. My parents couldn’t perform the ritual that gave me the curse twice, as the cult explained that it would only work once, like every ultra rare item in a game. I didn’t know how to explain to my friends, either. The concept of death to them was so... foreign. To Cartman’s sociopathic mind, death didn’t matter to him.

I constantly spent time by myself, retreating in my own world. Perhaps it was better like this; they wouldn’t have to be bogged down by a burden like me.

“Kenny!” yelled Karen happily, as she quickly made her way up the gallery steps to get to me. She held my hand, and her strong arm pulled me up. I did my best to stand as straight as I could. Pulling me into an embrace, she cried, “Thank you so much, big brother. Thank you for all those night-talks. Thank you for encouraging me whenever I felt down. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Karen. Oh my god, you didn’t have to---

I patted her head and ruffled her hair. I wondered if that day was the last day I would be able to see her. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, the familiar taste of tears came back. 

“Karen, thank you for being my family,” I said in-between tears, “I love you.”

That day, when I reached home after Karen’s game, I was alone in the house. She had a celebratory party with her teammates. Feeling unusually exhausted, I dragged my feet along the floor and fell into my mattress. 

When I happened to turn my head towards Karen’s empty mattress, I noticed a stack of papers left on the floor beside it. My hand reached out and grabbed it.

‘A Story of a Fire Demon and a Peasant Boy’, it had read. I realised, that it was a picture book that Karen had drew with crayons. Something about it was off, but I couldn’t figure out why.

‘Once upon a time, a fire demon wanted to get home after playing around too much.’

‘However, it got lost after a while. It decided to wander around towns, cities and neighbourhoods, but all of them weren’t its home.’

‘The fire demon couldn’t ask for help from anyone, either. People couldn’t see it. So the fire demon cried in one corner, praying for help.’

‘Then a peasant boy walked past it. For some reason, he could see the demon. He went up to it and asked, “What’s wrong?”’

‘ “Oh, I’m lost! What a terrible thing! Please, help me...” the fire demon cried.’

‘The peasant boy understood the feeling of helplessness. Thus, he answered, “I’ll go with you! I’ll help you find your home. In return, you must get rid of my curse of immortality.”’

‘The fire demon agreed to his promise. Thus, both of them travelled far and wide, through different worlds. Being an immortal, the peasant boy helped the demon fight off any enemies.’

‘Eventually, they reached the fire demon’s home. The peasant boy wanted his curse gone, and the fire demon was happy to oblige. It did its best magic to remove the curse.’

‘When the curse was removed, the peasant boy grew older and older at a fast rate, eventually falling onto the ground. “I didn’t know I would die ths fast,” he said, before having his final breath.’

The last page was a blank page, on which some small words were written in light pencil, obviously in Karen’s handwriting, “I don’t know how to end this story.”

I grabbed my school bag and took out a pencil, then began drawing the ending for her.

‘The fire demon, saddened by the peasant boy’s death, began spreading tales of his bravery and selflessness and kindness all over the world. At least, he wouldn’t be forgotten.’

Or at least, that’s what I hoped to be remembered as.

I whipped out my phone and called Kyle’s number.

“Hit me up for some basketball games, boi. Kenny’s back.”

To be honest, from the very start, it shouldn’t have mattered that I was immortal or not. What mattered was my attitude towards life --- was I able to live in the present moment, and be hopeful, no matter which circumstance I was in? Was I of help to others? Did I let myself down? Sometimes, I guess it’s just useless to worry about when we’ll die.

And death can’t stop me from living my life to the fullest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some plotholes that I noticed that will be fixed soon...


End file.
